


What Kind of Love is Like That?

by farfarawaygirl



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fools in Love, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Miscommunication, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: If you had asked her what her life would look like at thirty-one even the week before she ran towards Chicago, Sylvie would have never predicted this. She would have known her future.Married to Harrison. A cute house, in Fowlerton full of books, and baking, and most importantly babies. That future had held a lot of babies. Babies with her pale hair and Harrison green eyes, babies who were loved and adored and never doubted.  Babies that she cared for, because she wouldn’t work. She’d keep a home. Have dinner on the table at the right time, head the PTA, drive a reliable SUV.If she had married Harrison, Sylvie thought, she’d probably have a kid in kindergarten by now. One more on her hip, and an other in her belly. In all likelihood she would never have met Julie. Never known Amelia.It’s a weird thought.That alternate reality Sylvie that exists somewhere in her head, just floating beyond reach.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett & Stella Kidd, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett/Other(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 85





	What Kind of Love is Like That?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely song by William Fitzsimmons. 
> 
> I am crap at editing. 
> 
> They only named her Sydney so he could call her Sylvie... that’s just facts. 
> 
> I am still in love with these fools.

I was such a fool thinking I could have you for myself  
I was such a fool thinking I could have you for myself

You spit it out when it was bitter  
When in the end it didn't glitter

One minute we laughed joking 'round talking trash  
What kind of love is like that?  
With a knife in my back it can happen so fast  
What kind of love is like that?

I was such a fool thinking I could have you for myself

What Kind of Love is Like That • William Fitzsimmons

All things considered, she’ll be okay. 

If you had asked her what her life would look like at thirty-one even the week before she ran towards Chicago, Sylvie would have never predicted this. She would have known her future. 

Married to Harrison. A cute house, in Fowlerton full of books, and baking, and most importantly babies. That future had held a lot of babies. Babies with her pale hair and Harrison green eyes, babies who were loved and adored and never doubted. Babies that she cared for, because she wouldn’t work. She’d keep a home. Have dinner on the table at the right time, head the PTA, drive a reliable SUV. 

If she had married Harrison, Sylvie thought, she’d probably have a kid in kindergarten by now. One more on her hip, and an other in her belly. In all likelihood she would never have met Julie. Never known Amelia. 

It’s a weird thought. 

That alternate reality Sylvie that exists somewhere in her head, just floating beyond reach. 

And if she hadn’t married Harrison, but had married Kyle, Sylvie thought it would be the same situation. Her at home, in a supporting role, with wifely duties to attend to, and volunteer committee’s to head. 

Everyone who loves her seems to want to hide her away. They claim to love her smile, and her warmth, her bright personality- but always at a cost. Her autonomy, or her freedom, or her career. It’s a pretty raw deal. 

So, in light of all that, it doesn’t really matter that at the end of the day Matt’s still in love with Gabby. Or that he got the phone number of that woman from the billboard call. As long as she has herself, she’ll be fine. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Sylvie turns towards the dark shape beside her in bed. Reaching out she snuggles into them, tucking her head into their shoulder. 

“Nothing.”

Stella snorts, “I can hear you thinking all the way over here.”

“I was thinking about who I might have been, if I had married Harrison and never come to Chicago.”

“Ugh,” Stella pulls Sylvie closer, “I don’t like that at all. We’d never have met.” She was silent for a beat, and then she asked, “in this alternate reality I might still be married to Grant, working bars in Milwaukee.”

“I would probably have multiple children, and no job.”

“Oooh!” Stella dragged the word out, “what would you have named them?”

“I always liked Amelia.” Stella hugs her tight again, and Sylvie idly thinks that sleepovers with best friends should happen more the older you get, not less. They may not have ended up sharing a bed because they were both having a good day, but it’s nice. Comforting. “And if I ever had a boy I’d want to name him Andrew. Call him Andy.”

“If I ever have a boy,” Stella says, “I’ve always liked the name Liam.”

Sylvie nods, “it’s cute. I like Deacon too. Or Declan. Something that their won’t be a million other kids in your school, you know?”

They both tense as a siren passes below, the familiar hum and whine of a fire truck. 

“You and I could do it.” Stella declares. 

“Do what?”

Stella wiggles a little, the comforter shifting on the bed, “in five years, if we don’t have partners and babies already in the works, we could just do our own thing and raise some babies.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” Sylvie smiles, picturing it. “Giving kids homes. Raising up the next generation of firefighter paramedics.”

“Oh no,” Stella interjects. “We are absolutely raising Doctors and Presidents.”

“I like the sound of that. A girl in the White House, and then our son working for the CDC.” It’s dark in her bedroom, but Sylvie feels the warmth of her friend, the comfort of her bed, and the safe place to land that Stella has provided. “Stella Kidd, anyone who doesn’t see your strength and determination, is a bozo.”

“Casey is an idiot.” Is all Stella says back, “if he doesn’t understand that you are the most selfless, caring, compassionate person the world over.”

When they wake up in the morning, Stella reminds Sylvie of their pact. 

“Five years, and then we’re saving all the kids we can, and taking over the world.”

-

It shouldn’t surprise her, that Matt brought the car accident girl to Molly’s, but it does. It kind of makes Sylvie feel like she has something stuck in her throat. There’s this unsettled, uncomfortable feeling that is spreading from the back of her throat all the way to her sternum. So much for his feelings towards Sylvie being real. 

Of course she misjudged the distance needed to skirt his table, and ends up brushing against it as she dodged Herrmann and a mop. It’s just long and terrible enough that she meets Casey’s eyes as she hurries to the patio. So, that happens. 

“You okay?” Severide asks, Sylvie sends him a glance, pulling her coat tighter around her. 

It’s not an easy answer, “I don’t know.” It’s not like Matt’s discussed whatever has happened with the two of them with Severide, because nothing really happened. 

“You saw Casey?”

Sylvie shrugs. “Why would that bug me?”

“You tell me.” Severide is smirking. Actually smirking. 

“Good talk.” Sylvie sends Severide a tight smile, turning back around. Stella’s busy, she doesn’t want to drink with Severide, doesn’t really want to be here when Casey’s on a date. Maybe this whole night was a bust. Pulling out her phone, Sylvie heads back inside, she’ll order an Uber and head home. 

An other night of rosè and leftovers on the couch.

Of course Casey’s coming out of the washroom as she walks past, this is all some cosmic punishment for betraying Gabby, or leaving Kyle, or just not being a good enough person. 

“Hey.” 

Does his voice have to be so soft? Did he have to wear that blue button up - because she knows it’s the one she fixed for him this summer when he pulled the thread out and he lost a button. 

“Captain.” Sylvie hates the way her voice hitches on the second syllable. “Have a good night.”

Walking briskly, she waves at Kidd and Mouch who are pulling beers, shrugging sheepishly at Stella’s questioning stare. It’s cold outside, the barest hint of snow in the air. Sylvie stomps her feet as she pulls up Uber on her phone. 

“You leaving?”

It’s Greg. 

“Trying to find an Uber.”

“I’ll take you.” He smiles, and it disarms her a little, making her blush. 

“You don’t know where I’m going.” That seems like an important thing to point out. 

Greg lifts one shoulder, carelessly, “I’ve got a full tank of gas, and no other plans.”

“I’ll be horrible company.”

“I bet I can make you smile.”

Maybe this is exactly what she needs; she can’t have who she really wants, and clearly he’s not dealing with the same problem. It feels a little unfair, so Sylvie speaks up, “listen, I’ll accept a ride home. And if you want, I’ll buy us burger and shakes from this place I know, but I want to be up front.” Greg tilts his head, “I’m just getting out of something, and I’m not really in a place to do anything relationship-y. Yet.”

The yet feels important. It makes Greg smile down at her too, which doesn’t hurt. Maybe this is how things were meant to happen; maybe she had to met him with her heart a little bruised and broken. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be more than a friend. 

“I can live with that.”

“Okay.” Sylvie tucks her phone in her pocket, “then burgers and shakes it is.”

As she follows him down the sidewalk, she doesn’t even notice that Casey and his date are exiting Molly’s. She doesn’t feel Matt’s eyes track her, isn’t even aware that he is left standing on the stoop with his heart sitting heavy in his stomach. 

-

Sydney. Her name is Sydney. 

And she just dropped off a box of doughnuts. 

“You want one?” Cruz asks, sliding the pink box towards on at the long table in the common room. Sylvie shakes her head. 

“I’m good.”

“So are these,” Ritter adds, helping himself to a second doughnut. There is a slight ring of powder around his mouth, so Sylvie points to a napkin and gets up. 

“Mackey, let’s make sure we’re stocked.” Giana gets up, a chocolate doughnut in her hand. 

“You got it, Boss.”

Sylvie dutifully avoids looking out on the apron when Casey is talking with Sydney. 

Mackey waits a whole five minutes before she says something about hose bunnies. Sylvie’s laughs a little, but replies, “the Captain isn’t really like that.”

And he’s not. Which is why this hurts so much. That, and the months, and months of feelings. 

-

“Do you want to talk about it?” There is a teasing lilt in Severide’s voice when he slides into the spot at the bar beside Casey.

Casey shots him a dirty look, swigging from his beer bottle, wiping his mouth, Matt grunts. “Nope.” However he doesn’t look away from the far end of the bar where Sylvie is sitting. 

Where Sylvie is sitting with Grainger. 

The only reason that Matt isn’t pissed off, is that he saw the genuine surprise on Sylvie’s face when Grainger approached her. At least she didn’t invite him. That has to mean something, what Matt’s not exactly sure off. He just knows he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off her all night, 

She had shown up about an hour ago with Chloe and Cruz, her hair bright around her face. When she had slipped her coat off her shoulders, Matt had felt his heart beat faster. Blue was her colour. He likes her in every colour, thought she somehow always managed to look a bit like a princess in a fairy tale when she wears blue. 

Matt wonders if he is the only person who knows that story. About her birth parents, and royalty. The idea that it is something only he knows made the rest of what was happening between them seem less upsetting. She had always been open, even when she had first come to Chicago, something that a lot of people dismissed as naivety, but Matt knew was really just her compassion and optimism. 

It was one of the things he likes best about her; so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise that someone else is seeing it. That someone else is acting on it. It’s just - unsettling to watch. It feels a little like someone douses him with ice water when Grainger makes Sylvie laugh. 

“Matt, hi!” Sydney’s voice is overly bright, she slides onto the bar stool beside him, smiling at him and Severide. “So this is where all the firefighters in Chicago hang out?”

“Just our house usually, though it does seem to be getting more popular.” Severide replies, shooting a pointed gaze at Sylvie and Grainger. 

Casey clears his throat, ignoring his friend. “How was your day?”

He actually manages a somewhat engaged conversation with Sydney, though he definitely feels waves of judgement coming from Kidd as she serves them beer, and amusement as Severide chimes in anecdotes. It’s nice. Not earth shattering, or anything intense. Just nice. 

From the corner of his eye, he watches Sylvie. She always listens so fully to anyone talking to her, and her face is expressive. The whole damn thing is distracting; why is she smiling like that? Matt thinks he recognizes the smile she is sending Grainger, it one that she uses when she’s unsure. She stands up and Casey wants to roll his eyes when Grainger helps her put on her coat. 

“Who is Sylvie?” Sydney’s voice cut through the fog in his head because there is a little bite to it. Something sharp in the way she asks the question.

Dumbly Casey just says, “what?”

“You called me Sylvie.”

Beside him Severide gives a snort of laughter. 

“I didn’t...” Casey stumbles over his thoughts, over his words, flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. Just at that moment Mouch calls out, which ultimately seals his fate. 

“Sylvie!” Mouch calls, holding up something in his hand, over by the door Sylvie and Grainger stop. “Kidd wanted to make sure you had these.” He places a set of keys in the palm of her hands. 

“Thanks Mouch,” she’s turning away, and Casey can see that Sydney is watching her, can see that Grainger is smiling at her, knows that he can’t look away. Her eyes flick over him and Severide, and Casey sees the way she blinks rapidly, smile fixed on her face, “have a good night, guys.” And then she’s gone, the door chiming after her as Grainger holds it open. 

Sydney turns to look at him, but the expression on her face is not angry, it’s kind of sympathetic. “Oh, so that’s Sylvie.” 

“Yup.” Severide says, “that’s Sylvie.”

“And her boyfriend?” Sydney’s question makes Casey’s stomach clench. He shrugs, falsely unbothered. Sydney laughs a little, just sucks in a breath and laughs at him. “Good luck with that.” Then she’s up, pulling on her own coat, “you can buy my beer.”

Honestly? He kind of deserved that one. 

-

Now he’s the creep who is watching her sleep. It’s mostly by accident, Cruz and Gallo have night watch, so neither he nor Sylvie need to be out here, but when she went on her last call he found himself a little restless. It’s after midnight, and she’s back in house, her cheek pillowed on the back of the couch as she waits for a new pot of coffee to brew. 

Casey was just using the quiet to finish reports at the round table, but he’s distracted by the curve of her eyelashes. When she had sat down a few minutes ago, Sylvie had looked right past him to the coffee pot, gradually he had watched her blinks become longer. And then her head had dropped a little lower as she had fallen asleep. 

Looking at her right now reminds him a little of pressing on a bruise. The memory of something sharper just beyond his grasp. How her face had looked that night in her apartment when he didn’t answer her. The way she asked him for space. 

He doesn’t want to keep hurting her. 

So intently is he looking at her face, studying the apple of her cheek, the bridge of her nose, it takes him a beat to realizes she’s awake. Sylvie is just looking back at him. 

“Morning.” His voice is unexpectedly hoarse. 

Sylvie smiles sweetly, and closes her eyes again. The spell stretches out a little bit longer between them; the quiet of the common room, the smell of brewing coffee. Casey doesn’t want it to end, wishes he could start a life with her right here in this moment. 

Instead the bells go off. 

-

Severide shows up at her apartment and says some very sweet words to Stella, so of course she packs up her things and goes home with him. It’s fine. It’s what Sylvie was rooting for, it just means that’s she is alone again in her apartment. Alone again on her couch. 

She feels alien and out of sorts. 

Last night Greg had taken her on a date. It was all perfectly respectable and above board. The only problem was that at the end of the day he was a little too tall, a little to dark haired, and ultimately he wasn’t Matt Casey. 

That has never really happened to her before. 

She’s kissed men when the timing was off, she’s dated people who it was never going to work with. It’s just that Sylvie has never measured someone up against someone else; Except with Matt Casey. And she has done it twice now. Once with Kyle, and now with Greg. 

Because Greg had kissed her. Earnestly kissed her in his truck after he had driven back to apartment. It had been nice, but it had felt wrong. Sylvie doesn’t think she has ever kissed someone before where she was so clearly thinking of someone else. That’s not who she is. Not who she wants to be. 

Sylvie sits in the semi dark, a warm wool blanket pulled over her knees and tries not to give it too much thought. Twice now she has seen Matt on dates with Sydney at Molly’s. Sydney has been by the firehouse twice, and Sylvie wonders if this is what she has to look forward to, a lifetime of watching Matt date other people until Gabby comes back around. It doesn’t sound appealing. 

-

Holding hands with Greg doesn’t make her giddy. 

It’s not something she ever got to do with Matt. Not that her mind didn’t wander there, Matt has very attractive hands. Calloused and strong. Sylvie has lost count of the times she has found her eyes focussed in on them. When he was helping her move. Playing a card game during some down time at 51. Idly spinning a coaster at Molly’s. 

But Greg had innocently taken her hand as he directed her around a break in the sidewalk, and now she was holding it as they waited for a table. He chose a restaurant closer to 40 than 51, Sylvie wonders if he has brought dates here before. This is technically their second date, excluding the time they hung out and ate burgers after he drove her home from Molly’s, and while he is lovely, he’s not Matt. 

She is beginning to think that is a really big problem. 

“Pardon?” Sylvie blushes, knowing she missed with Greg just said to her. 

“I was wondering what your plans were for the weekend, we get off shift on Saturday morning…” Greg smiles at her, tilting his head. 

Between shifts, Sylvie has noticed, Greg grows his facial hair out. It’s such a small thing to notice, abstractly her first thought is how she’s never seen Matt with a beard. 

“I’m going on a secret mission.” At her words, Greg’s smile deepens. “Seriously! I’m playing cupid for a friend.”

“Too bad, I was going to suggest we take a night or two outside the city. Find a Bed and Breakfast.”

Oh. That was fast. 

Biting her lip, Sylvie looks down and plays with her drinks coaster, “That sounds like a nice idea, for when we are further along.” It’s not a no, because she isn’t outright saying no, she’s just saying not now. “I’d like to take things slow.”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Not really, I just am at the point in my life, where I know what I want. And I think building a foundation is important to the longevity of a relationship.”

“So, this is a relationship?”

This feels a little like a trap, or like he’s making a joke at her expense. “Not yet.”

Greg takes her hand, “Okay.” He’s calm, unbothered. There isn’t seven years of history between them, Greg doesn’t have an ex-wife she once considered one of her best friends. She didn’t accept someone’s proposal based in part, on his assessment of who she belonged with. It’s not fireworks, or electricity when they touch; but maybe that’s not what Sylvie wants anymore. 

“Okay.”

-

“Pssst.”

Sylvie looks up from her spot on the back lip of the Ambo, she settled in a few minutes ago with the tablet to log some reports. Tony and Capp are at the Squad table, Gallo and Ritter are checking tire pressure, she has no idea where that noise came from. She hears it again, “Pssst.” Then she sees the edge of Severide’s face as he waves her over. He’s standing half in-half out of the Turn Out room. 

Sylvie looks around, tucks her tablet into the slot in the Ambo door, and walks over to the now closed door. It’s dark when she enters. Sylvie pulls the door shut behind her before she flicks on the lights. There’s a moment of surprise when she finds herself inches from Casey in the sudden brightness, Severide a few feet away. In the shock, Sylvie’s hand found Casey’s elbow, temporarily squeezing it before she stepped away, clearing her throat. 

“What’s going on?”

“Okay,” Severide starts, “I’ve got the ring.”

He’s doing it. Last week after Severide had come to her apartment to bring Stella home, he had asked for Sylvie’s help planning a proposal. They’re the friends she is playing Cupid for. Apparently so is Matt. 

“Congrats, Man.” Casey reaches out and clasps his best friend’s shoulder, slapping it soundly. “Proud of you.”

Sylvie sends an encouraging smile, trying not to move when Matt crosses his arms and his elbow grazes hers. “What’s the plan for this weekend?”

“Do you think you two can drive up to the cabin and make it ready? I want to bring her up after lunch, but before it’s dark. It would mean a lot to us both if you two were there.”

Maybe her and Matt aren’t the only ones playing Cupid. 

“I know,” Severide cuts in, “it’s small, but there’s the couch and the other bedroom, and we want our people.”

“Of course.” Sylvie cuts in. “No problem.” Matt’s gaze on her feels almost like his hands are touching her cheek, and she knows she is blushing. “What were you thinking, flowers? Champagne? Steak?”

Both of the men smile bemusedly at her. “I knew Brett would help me come up with a plan.”

From outside the room someone calls that food is ready. 

“Okay, here’s what we will do, Stella’s on shift at Molly’s tomorrow night, so come to my place and we will make a plan, and a shopping list and just generally get things done.”

Severide is beaming. 

The three of them exit the Turn Out room and walk directly into Ritter who gives them a startled look. 

-

Sylvie is halfway to her bedroom to get Stella’s forgotten hairbrush when someone knocks at the door, before she can course correct, Casey stands up from the table and says he will get it. It’s not food, Severide brought deep dish, and Sylvie doesn’t think she ordered anything from Amazon that would get delivered straight to her door. She is in her bedroom, grabbing the hair brush when she remembers. 

Shock and surprise settle over Casey as she pulls open the door, Grainger is standing there, a tool box in one hand and a paper bag from the hardware store in the other. They raise eyebrows at one an other, equally surprised to see the other person.

“Captain.”

Casey unwilling pulls the door open wider, “Lieutenant, what brings you by?”

Grainger steps into the apartment, Severide leaning out from the dining table to see what is happening, and then there is Sylvie. She’s holding the hairbrush and smiling in a way that Casey knows means she is distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Greg! Hey. We were just working on something.” Her free hands waves towards the kitchen and dining area, where Severide is placidly eating his third piece of pizza. 

Lifting his red tool box, Greg smiles, “I’m not here to interrupt, I’m just going to fix the cabinet in your bathroom.”

“That’s really kind of you, thank you.” Matt watches helplessly as Grainger follows Sylvie through the living room, past her open bedroom door and over to her bathroom. If this was two months ago, Matt would have been the one Sylvie called. Instead he watches as Sylvie flicks on the lights, hears her laugh at something Grainger says, before she rejoins them in the dining area. Matt is still standing by the door, one hand on the knob, blushing Sylvie gestures over to the table. 

Taking her seat, Sylvie opens her laptop, “Okay, we have the grocery list ordered, Casey and I will grab that on our way up to the cabin, I will pack a bag for Stella, Casey will grab the champagne and cigars.” Her nose wrinkles on the last word. She consults a paper list, Matt smiles, seeing her pale green to do list paper, and loopy cursive. “Severide says we’ve got enough wood up at the cabin, either Casey or I can stop and grab ice, and flowers. Anything else?”

Her blue eyes look up from her laptop, a piece of golden hair falling into her eyes. 

“You guys should drive up together. Save time, and you only need to hide one car.”

Sylvie looks over at Matt, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“If you don’t mind,” Matt adds, “save some gas, we can drive back on Sunday together too.”

Her okay in reply is small, and she jumps a little at the clatter from the bathroom. Grainger cursing. 

“What’s going on with your cabinet?” 

Sylvie blushes more, “It was Stella, she slammed it one night, and the top hinge broke. I can fix it, I know how, I just didn’t go and buy a new hinge.”

“But Grainger did?” Matt is aware that he sounds testy. Severide smirks over at him. 

Sylvie uses her pen to slid the To Do List up and down the surface of the table, “Yeah. He did.”

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think will happen next?!?!


End file.
